


Tomorrow's love and today's adventure

by artinthedark, Spotofpaint



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1950s, Drug Abuse, Human & Country Names Used, Italian Mafia, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Poor Spain, Romano's Filthy Vocabulary, Romano's Temper, Sick Spain, Vengeful Britain, abusive boss, opium use, spamano - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 09:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artinthedark/pseuds/artinthedark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spotofpaint/pseuds/Spotofpaint
Summary: Romano's days are becoming increasingly frustrating. He's got plenty of problems to handle on his own. Today's meeting holds no joy or excitement for him. He  knows the world hates him, but what's he to do when Spain comes back into his life after hundreds of years separation? Does he care? Does he hate him? Does he miss him? Are his feelings now different than those he felt hundreds of years ago? Problems,trials, incidents from the past, and abusive bosses stand in the way. Romano decides to care for Spain in his time of hardship, but will this lead Romano to find a relationship with the Spaniard he never could have conceived of before?





	1. Memories in Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic co-written with Spotofpaint while we were own our Hetalia binge. This Spamano fic features a later chapter that was relevant to our other Hetalia fic Brothers, so I have posted it up. Standard disclaimer: We don't own Hetalia. This is a multi-chapter story. It is complete I just need to edit the chapters. Please comment.
> 
> This story features Spamano. Don't like, don't read.

Ch. 1 : Memories in Gold

The days that Romano remembered from his youth, the days he’d spent in Spain, for some reason, always seemed to have a golden tinge to them. And when he dreamt about his childhood, that color scheme remained the same.  
“Romano,” came the familiar soft voice. “Why don’t jou try one? I’m sure jou’ll like it.” Romano had been looking at the tomato that had been placed in his hands in confusion, but when Spain spoke to him, Romano gazed up at Spain from his place near the ground. Being such a young country, and being so small, the older nation seemed sometimes absurdly tall. But even so, it was never difficult to see Spain’s face. The dark-haired country was always smiling. Out in the tomato fields with the sun streaming brightly down upon them, Spain seemed to shine even more brightly still.  
Spain stood before him, bent over, hands on his knees as he gazed at his new charge with delight. Romano couldn’t help but to notice how he always bent over like that when he addressed him, doing his best to come down to his level so he could see him better.  
“They’re called tomatoes. It’s one of my countries best crops. Try it! They’re good for jou.” And as Romano stared at him, he couldn’t help but to think that somehow, the green color in Spain’s eyes was even more vibrant than that of the leaves on the tomato vines all around them.  
How can that be? 

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!

The blaring sound of Romano’s alarm clock blasted through his dream as assuredly as a bomb. And the noise was so startling that he sat up in his bed with a gasp. Throwing a hand to his chest, he found his heart racing. His pea-green eyes wide, he felt his breath hurry in and out of him. He was coated in sweat, but really…that wasn’t such an odd way for him to wake up. It was the heart of summer in Southern Italy, and the heat as of late was nearly unbearable. With the year being 1955, and with Southern Italy being so poor, he of course, didn’t have any air conditioning in his home.  
Still breathing heavily from the start his alarm clock gave him, Romano glanced to his bedroom’s open windows. There of course, wasn’t even a hint of a breeze. The day outside already looked insanely hot, with the sun blaring down and not a hope of a cloud in sight.  
“Shit!” Southern Italy didn’t have much. All he did have to offer as a country were his crops as a farmer. And those crops…were all dying from the heat and lack of rain this summer. The current drought, his half of Italy was experiencing, felt as if it were dragging on and on forever and ever. But of course…Northern Italy had been receiving plenty of rain.  
“Stupid Feliciano! He gets all the-a-damned luck! I don’t know-a-why the-a-universe chose to-a-love him and-a-hate me but I’m-a-sick of this-a-garbage!” Reaching out, he slammed his hand down on top of his blaring alarm clock to make it stop. But once it fell silent from the abuse, Romano found himself sitting up in his bed, coated in sweat and still rather upset. He was wearing nothing but his boxers, but even so, he already felt unbearably warm, and the sun had just risen.  
I have that-a- meeting today… he thought to himself. But that thought didn’t cheer him either. Southern Italy’s life had always been hard, and after Italy’s unification, his life had only gotten more difficult. As a child, he’d always thought that once he grew up and became his own country, things would get better. But they never had. He felt he was just the same as he was when he was small. He was still painfully poor, his half of the country was still riddled with violent crime, and his citizens were mostly all unemployed, and living in bad conditions. Even he, the countries persona, wasn’t living that well. His so called ‘house’ wasn’t much more than a shack.  
  
The other countries didn’t see it to be in their best interests to help him. Romano had nothing to offer them in exchange for assistance. For the most part, he was only surviving on the money his crops brought in, and the subsidies his brother gave him from Northern Italy.  
  
Romano trembled in bed as he thought about his brother. He would never admit it, but of course he didn’t have too: everyone already knew that Romano was insanely jealous of Feliciano. It just seemed as if Northern Italy had everything. He was rich with much more than just money. He had good weather, beautiful cities filled with historical architecture, art, culture, and knowledge. People called him the most romantic country in the world (although France would argue.)  
Even Feliciano’s personal life seemed like a dream compared to Romano’s. Feliciano had Germany. And the two of them were so inseparable and so lovey-dovey that it made Romano want to puke every time he saw them together.  
I’ve-a-never had-a-anything, he thought. Not-a-anything at all! And even for Romano it was rather early in the day to be having a pity party. But…for some reason, when he had this thought, his dream came back to mind. And he found himself thinking about Spain. As he sat there in his sweat soaked sheets, he could still remember his happy, smiling face.  
  
Romano quickly crossed his arms over his chest, a rather sour looking pout coming over his fine features.  
  
Like I’d-a-waste my-a-time thinking about him, he thought bitterly. But it wasn’t at all because the memories were unpleasant. In fact, it was exactly the opposite. Romano remembered quite clearly how happy he was during those days. It was the only time in his life where he truly felt…good about himself. And it was the only time in his life where he’d been somewhat happy. Spain had taken care of him as a child. And he’d done a damned good job of it too. Romano was aware of how difficult a child he’d been. He was sure he hadn’t been easy to raise. In fact…after Austria had taken him in…Austria had made it painfully clear of how difficult a child he was.  
  
Being taken away from Spain had been incredibly, horrendously difficult for Romano. And those first few years with Austria had been heartbreakingly painful. The separation had been tragic.  
  
That was-a-hundreds of-a-years ago. Why am I-a-thinking of all of this-a-now? Romano hadn’t seen Spain in over three hundred years. And he’d been so absorbed in all his own countries problems and all the hardship South Italy was going through that he really hadn’t given the other country any thought. Dealing with the Italian mafia, horrific violence and back breaking poverty tended to take up a lot of a countries time.  
  
“Stupid dream…” Romano muttered. His arms still crossed over his chest, he tried to forget about it. But…it was hard. For some reason…that memory made him feel good. But as he felt that good feeling, it also brought a bittersweet sensation with it. After all…those days were long gone. And he knew he could never get them back.  
  
Why remember any-a-good things? It’ll only make me-a-sad. It’s better to forget…  
  
And so, like chasing a ghost away, Romano shook his head. A look of determination coming over his face, he looked back to the blinding sun outside his window.  
  
I’ll-a-do my best for my-a-citizens today! That’s what I’ll-a-do! I’ll-a-go to the-a meeting and make our-a-position clear!  
  
Nodding to himself, he scooted to the edge of the bed. Then, dropping his feet down to his hardwood floor he stood up. It was time to shower and get ready for the day.

The UN meeting was to be had in Northern Italy. As such, Romano didn’t have terribly far to travel. That was good…since a plane ticket cost quite a bit of money. Instead, he drove himself in his old beat up car that he had for years and years. In his best suit, which was the same one he’d had for the past ten years, he watched as his fields passed him by. His heart sank when he saw their condition. All of his citizens crops…all of them were dying. Withered and dry, the stalks of wheat seemed sad and stunted. And even more heartbreaking still was the next field he drove by. This field was of tomatoes. And as he saw them dying…he couldn’t help but to think of Spain once more. It was Spain that had introduced the tomato to Italy, and ever since that fateful day…Romano had cherished the plant. To watch them dying now…felt a lot like being woken up from the pleasant memory he’d been having that morning.  
  
Sighing heavily, he continued onward, heading toward his brother’s territory. 

Eventually, Romano made it to Northern Italy’s capitol building. It was large, elaborate, decorative, and full of architecture and historical significance. Artistic on every level, it was far beyond any skill that Romano might have had. All of the artistic talent in the family had been passed down to his brother.  
  
It was in the heart of Rome, of course. And the city around him was breathtaking, bustling with life and teeming with happy, well-off citizens. The weather was perfect. A cool breeze ruffled his brunette locks as he stepped out of his old beat up car, and a cloud was currently passing in front of the sun. The citizens all around seemed lively, and everyone had a smile on as they waved at one another, saying “Ciao!”  
  
As always, it made Romano want to scream and tear at his hair. But instead of doing anything like that, he held his head high, keeping his chin tall. He had more pride than to let any of his discomfort show. Keeping his eyes straight ahead, he refused to look at the happy young girl walking her dog down the cobblestone street, or the elderly gentleman watering his flowers out his third story window.  
  
If Romano’s citizens couldn’t be happy, then he wouldn’t be happy either. At the very least…he still had his pride. And he would fight for that pride tooth and nail. For really…it was all he had left. And if someone dared try to take that from him, well…then that person would find out why the Italian mafia was so feared.  
  
Marching into the capitol building and straight through the double front doors, Romano gave a dirty look to anyone who came too close to him. He was not in a good mood and he certainly didn’t want to hear any of Feliciano’s citizens’ pleasantries. All he wanted to do was get in and get out of this stupid UN meeting as quickly as possible. After all…he didn’t have anything to gain by being here today. The other countries, he already knew, wouldn’t help him with his problems. Why would they? It wasn’t like he had any friends. Unlike Feliciano…who was friends with the whole God-damned world.  
  
No one can-a-be friends with-a-me, Romano thought bitterly. I’m-a-too abrasive to-a-get along with. None of the other countries showed him much interest. Austria and Hungary in fact had seemed more than eager to get rid of him when Italy went through its unification. They had dumped Romano onto Feliciano like a hot stone, as if they simply couldn’t get rid of him fast enough. As if he was a burden, or a tumor that was sucking up their resources.  
  
That’s-a-fine by-a-me! He thought to himself, struggling to bolster his spirits. I don’t-a-need them! I don’t-a-need anybody! I’m-a-doing just-a-fine all by my-a-self! But of course…if that thought had actually been true it would have made him feel better. But it wasn’t true. Romano knew he wasn’t doing fine. He was barely scraping by. But even so…he dared not let it show.  
  
Having marched all the way down the hallway of the capitol building, his usual sour look on his face and his chin held high, he reached the meeting room doors. He could hear the chatter and laughter of several countries within. Daring not to hesitate, Romano pushed on the door until it opened up for him. Then he stepped inside. Once inside, no one paid him any mind. For the most part, Romano was completely ignored by the other countries. He had little to no agreements with them, including trade. The only one he did any business with was Feliciano. And those meetings were usually had with just the two of them, brother to brother so to speak. No one approached him when he entered. No one greeted him or said hello. In fact, no one really even looked his way. Romano just moved through the large room, making his way in between groups of talking countries. He spotted America and Britain; America was already laughing obnoxiously loud at something Britain had said, but Britain didn’t look amused. Then, past them, China, Japan and Taiwan were all discussing something together.  
  
Off to his left he spotted Italy and Germany. Romano’s face soured. Germany appeared injured, as he had been since the end of WWII. He’d been taking quite a long time to heal mainly because the other countries were making him pay retribution and Russia had split Germany in half, taking most of East Germany for himself. Feliciano was fairly upset about it these days and was always whining and complaining about how cruel and unfair it all was. But his complaints only made Romano feel more hateful toward him.  
  
He doesn’t even-a-realize what he-a-has… he thought bitterly. And when he thought such a thing, he dared glance up at his brother and his lover for just a second. And sure enough, as soon as he did, he found Italy fussing over some of the German’s bandages. And as he fussed, he seemed to start growing upset. But as soon as he displayed such an emotion, the well-built German lifted a hand, carefully caressing the Italian’s face in a comforting manner.  
  
Romano let out a scoff of disgust and quickly looked away once more.  
  
He has-a-million-a-friends and a man who’s-a-crazy about him and he-a-has the-a-nerve to-a-come and-a-complain to me!  
Angry, frustrated, and already feeling hurt even though nothing had happened yet, Romano marched around the meeting table and to his seat. There, he sat down. When he did, he noticed how no one was yet seated around him. Everyone was still standing around the room, talking to the other countries. Everyone had someone to greet. And as more countries filed into the room, they immediately spotted a friend or family member or someone they liked. Romano watched as a newcomer would lift a hand into the air, waving at a loved one. Then one of the countries would run over to say hello.  
With nothing else to do, Romano, as usual, looked around himself as he waited. Everyone was laughing and smiling it seemed. Everyone had something nice to say. Or if not…than the arguments he was hearing were mostly family related. Canada had entered the room and was now bickering with America. But…it seemed based in sibling love somehow, and this was only confirmed when Romano saw America laugh as he teased his twin brother.  
  
Romano couldn’t help it, more jealousy filled him. He didn’t have a good relationship with his brother, and so it was hard to see the North American twins interact. He didn’t have a parent to converse with either. He’d been raised by Austria and Hungary who had pretty much disowned him as soon as he was independent. And before that…there had only been Spain. But…Romana hadn’t seen Spain at a meeting in hundreds of years. Spain was going through some terribly difficult times and hadn’t been able to attend due to the horrors he was withstanding back home. Romano had never dreamed the Spanish Inquisition would last so long. But it had. And even after it had ended…Spain’s country was in turmoil. And so…  
  
Romano sighed heavily. His muted green eyes flitted down to the table top. He would have never admitted it out loud, for who did he have to admit something to, but the main reason he hated these meetings…was because it pointed out the fact that he had absolutely no one in his life. And it drove a deep, aching loneliness into his heart each and every time.  
  
What-a-good am I to anyone? He wondered woefully. I can’t-a-even take-a-care of my own-a-citizens. I’m such-a-worthless persona…  
  
There were times when the UN meetings made him feel so empty inside…that it was a struggle not to cry.

Spain had not been looking forward to the UN meeting. The severe cold he had, which he was almost certain was more like chronic pneumonia by now, was in full swing today. Ever since the civil war he’d been suffering from illness, and it varied from day to day how sick he would be. Some days he couldn’t get up, others it was hard to breathe, and some days it was simply the fever from hell with a nagging cough that never seemed to end. He was glad that today it was simply a fever, weakness, and coughing. With all the atrocities taking place in his homeland he knew his illness could have manifested itself in a much more debilitating way, and he knew his boss would have him lynched if he missed this meeting for any reason.  
  
His boss had been trying to join the UN for 10 years now, and they had finally been allowed to enter. His boss saw this as a promising road for the nation of Spain. Spain still remembered the meeting he’d had with his boss before coming to Italy. He’d been told not to screw this up, be attentive, and help promote alliances with anyone who was anti-communist. His boss hated communism perhaps more than anything, and Spain had been given a goal for this UN meeting make alliances against communism where he could.  
  
Spain let his green eyes filter to his reflection in the mirror. No one else was in the bathroom as he tried to freshen up. He looked decent enough. He had been looking rather disheveled when he’d met his boss back in Spain. Since then he had a shave, a haircut, and a newer suit than one he’d worn in a long time. His boss had wanted him to be presentable to the rest of the world. Despite the new clean appearance, it did nothing to hide the dark circles under his eyes from stress and long restless nights. His face was thinner than he remembered it last being as well. His cheekbones were accentuated, and his face thin from long, foodless days, but he had a suit at least. The suit hung loosely on his frame. The donator had been a few sizes larger than Antonio had, and he suddenly found the whim to thank God that his boss had also given him a belt to hold up his pants. His boss had also given him a briefcase to use. The donations had been much needed because Spain’s clothes looked like something a homeless man would scoff at, and Antonio had nothing else to wear to such an official function. Spain took one last look in the mirror before walking towards the exit of the bathroom. It was time to make his way towards the meeting room.  
Spain knew he was going to be seeing numerous nations who he hadn’t seen in what felt like a millennium. He knew it hadn’t been that long, but he had been through so much in the past 25 years alone that the years felt like a lifetime in their own right.  
Spain in years past would have been ecstatic to see his friends again. He would have joked around with France and Prussia. He would have thrown around words with Austria. He would have cracked jokes and suggested siestas for all. He would have hugged Italy and the two would have talked for hours, but those times were long since dead. His happy go lucky personality had long ago been ripped out of him by the hardships of his nation. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d smiled, and going into the UN meeting wasn’t causing him to burst at the seams in joy.  
  
He had no desire to see France. Francis had sold Gilbert out at the end of World War 2 and effectively sent 1/3 of their trio to what everyone assumed was Gilbert’s probable death. France had been one of the nations to demand Prussia’s dissolution. Spain didn’t know if he could face Francis without decking him at least one good time, but he wanted to get some of his strength back before he did that.  
  
Then there were the other nations. Austria and Hungary and so many other nations were gone now. They were all under Russia’s control and would not be at this meeting. He didn’t have anything to say to the former allied powers. He had his own business to discuss with America, but that was all. Spain knew Britain would be at the meeting, but he would have rather torn his hair out than talk to the former pirate who had helped throw him from his glory days. He hated communist Russia and China. That was pretty much the key players.  
  
As he thought about all the people he didn’t want to talk to Spain let out a heavy sigh and prayed Italy would at least be a pleasant hello. Italy was always with Germany though. He didn’t know how to face Prussia’s brother. That put another knot in his stomach all over again.  
  
Eventually he reached the doors that lead to the UN meeting room. He wiped at his sweating brow and ignored the fever he was currently enduring. At least the rosiness of fever helped bring some color back to his cheeks. Taking a deep breath Spain reached out and opened the door to the meeting hall. When Spain stepped into the meeting room he took in the sight of the nations around him. Many of the nations in the room he hadn’t seen in years, but he recognized them even if his nation’s troubles had been keeping him preoccupied for many years.  
  
He wondered if the others would recognize him just the same and that was when he heard Italy call out,“Big-a-brother Spain!”  
  
Spain did manage to pull up a smile for the younger Italian brother and waved at Italy while offering him a greeting. Italy was the presiding nation over this meeting and Spain was glad that there was a friendly face in the room. When Italy announced his arrival, he got a couple of looks from the standing nations in the room. France looked his way, but Spain immediately averted his eyes. He didn’t want to talk to France. He walked into the room not addressing the other nations.A sudden wave of dizziness had him wanting to run to his seat as fast as he could. He walked across the room examining chairs and name cards as he went. His eyes never drifted back towards any of the nations as he looked for his seat.  
In his hurry, he had not laid eyes on Romano, and he hadn’t assumed Romano would be at the meeting. He simply hadn’t thought of seeing the other Italian brother, but as he searched for his name card he was drawing closer and closer to the older Italian brother and Romano had the opportunity to examine him quite thoroughly. Eventually Spain found his name on a card and looked up taking another glance around the room. That’s when he spotted the brunette Italian and froze. His green eyes widened as he stared at Romano.  
  
Italy?  
  
A small part of him wondered, but he remembered he had said hello to Italy when he’d entered the meeting hall. Spain had to perform a double take. He spun around and saw Italy still talking to Germany across the room. Then he spun back around and saw Italy sitting in his chair at the table. Spain knew Romano and Italy’s differences better than anyone. Their hair color was slightly different, their eye color was different, and their hair thoink parted on different sides. Not to mention Italy always had an air of innocence and bubbly childishness while Romano had attitude and a scowl. Spain had just been so unprepared to run across Romano.  
  
Romano.  
  
Spain stared at him. He couldn’t take his eyes off him in all honesty. He hadn’t seen Romano in hundreds of years… 300 years, and Romano wasn’t the kid who Austria had taken from his home some 300 years ago. Romano was all grown up. If Spain hadn’t been so shocked he would have jumped for joy. Romano was an adult, and Spain had been the one to raise him as a child. Spain took great pride in having raised Romano. He had always felt like he had raised Romano well. He may not have been the best guardian. He may not have always been able to be at Romano’s side, but he had provided for him. He had tried to teach him everything he knew about farming. He had tried to boost his exceptionally low self-esteem. He wanted to take credit and pride in Romano, but he had to tether himself back to Earth quickly.  
  
He hadn’t seen Romano in 300 years because of the way the boy had been taken out of his home. Austria had taken the boy away for his own safety, and Spain had let him go. The events leading up to Romano’s departure were fuzzy to the Spaniard. He knew he’d fallen under the influence of his nation for some time, and when he’d snapped out of it he had been aware that Romano was hurt. That it was his fault. In that instant Spain knew it was safer for Romano to leave his side. It had hurt like hell, but he’d let him go. He had wanted Romano to be safe, and he knew he couldn’t keep him safe anymore. Then Spain had started his collapse into hundreds of years of economic hardship and decline. The fall of a super power to a super failure, few nations survived that cruel transition, and Spain had wondered on some of his worst days why fate had continued his suffering as long as it had. He was still alive though, and he would live and do the best by his nation.  
Spain had never asked Romano about those days leading up to his removal from his home. Spain knew that time had been difficult, and he’d always wondered what Romano had to say about that time if anything. Spain had always hoped that Romano could forgive him for what he’d done. He’d wanted to contact Romano for a time. He’d wanted to apologize to the boy, but Austria had been strict and quite adamantly declined him. Spain guessed it was for the best. Even after all these years Spain had no idea what to say to Romano. All of his words froze in his throat as he stared down at his long-lost henchman.  
  
Despite everything running through his mind the Spaniard’s lips tugged upward into a smile. It was weak like it hadn’t been on his face in a while, but it was there. Romano was grown up and he looked well enough for the times. Spain’s fears of what Romano thought of him melted away for a moment, and he let his happiness shine through. He was so glad that after everything the world had gone through in the last 25 years that the younger nation had survived through it all. It did the old nation’s spirit good to see Romano sitting there. He couldn't help it. He raised his bandaged hand and waved at Romano like he had hundreds of years ago, “Hola Romano.”

As soon as Feliciano cried out in an excited voice, “Big-a-brother Spain!” Romano’s heart had leapt up and into his throat from the shock. Half of him riddled with disbelief, his head had still whipped toward the doors of the meeting room so quickly he could have given himself whiplash.  
  
No! It-a-can’t be! He’s been-a-gone for far too-a-long! Hundreds of-a-years! But even as he thought it, Romano’s eyes settled on the older nation. There he was. It was real. And he was there with them in the meeting room.  
Romano’s pea-green eyes became not just wide, but huge. He stared at Spain as he greeted a few of the other nations. And as he started to make his way around the table, reading the name cards, Romano’s eyes only grew wider and wider still as he realized that he was nearing him.  
  
The Spaniard wasn’t in the best of shape. He seemed thin, much more so than Romano remembered. In his youth, the Italian remembered a pair of strong, well built arms that lifted him up and into the air. Now he seemed much weaker…almost frail.  
And his normally brightly tanned, brown-gold skin was pale. Romano remembered how it would glisten under the Spanish sun out in the fields, seeming to glow as healthily as the sky above.  
Spain also was clearly ill and tired. The deep dark circles under his eyes hadn’t escaped him, and neither did the red coloring to his cheeks from what must have been a fever. Romano couldn’t help but to remember even from his dream just that morning…how bright and vibrant those green eyes had always been.  
  
But the worst thing about Spain’s appearance…was that he wasn’t smiling. Romano watched, his wide eyes glued to the Spaniard. But the sad, tired, defeated expression on his face…was somehow terrifying. It frightened him, and also…made him feel terribly, incredibly sad. For the one thing about Spain that Romano remembered most clearly of all…had been his smile.  
  
He used to smile all the time and through everything, good or bad. Even when things seemed hard, or frightening. Romano couldn’t count the times that he’d run to Spain crying, with whatever fears young children had, and Spain always fixed them with kind words…and that grin. And seeing that smile absent from his face now…made him look almost as if he were a stranger. And as Spain drew closer and closer to him, Romano suddenly found himself becoming afraid of him.  
Romano had little to no contact with other nations. Mainly isolated, he wasn’t good at interacting with others. Socially deprived, the sudden reality of meeting his old guardian once again after hundreds of years, was nerve-wracking. Especially since…the last time he’d seen him…he’d become violent. Driven crazy from the horrors his nation, citizens and government were going through, Romano knew he hadn’t meant it. But all the same…Spain had hurt him. And with that kind, warm smile nowhere in sight, Romano had no idea if the man approaching him was still a violent lunatic or not.  
  
But even as his fear grew inside of him, Romano found himself unable to move from his seat. And equally as frozen as his body, were his saucer-like eyes, which he seemed unable to tear away from his gaze. His body stiffening and tense, he gripped the arm rests of his chair. But just as his heart started to beat wildly from fright in his throat…Spain…lifted his head and noticed him.  
  
The Spaniard at first had frozen. Having stopped walking forward, he stared at him, his green eyes as green as ever. He seemed confused. But Romano was so choked up from emotion that he didn’t have the ability to open his mouth to help him. He supposed…Spain might not have remembered who he was. After all…he’d been nothing but a child when they’d last seen each other.  
  
But then…something amazing happened. Recognition entered the Spaniards eyes, and once that recognition was there, his lips tugged upward into a smile. It was weak, like it hadn’t been on his face in a while, but it was there. And despite its fragility…it somehow seemed just as bright and as warm and as kind as Romano always recalled. And just like that, Romano’s fear of him melted away.  
  
This was the Spain he’d always known. And with that silly smile on his face, it made it very clear that he was the same old Spain as always. There was nothing to fear from him. He raised his bandaged hand then, and waved at Romano like he had hundreds of years ago.

“Hola Romano.”

Spain’s voice was exactly the same. And even in those two words alone, Romano felt the warmth and caring attitude from him. Spain…knew who he was. He recognized him, even though they hadn’t seen each other in over three hundred years, and even though he was all grown up and in a new body. And when Spain remembered him…he had smiled…and waved, just the way he had all those years ago. Romano had always wished he had someone to smile and wave at him just like that, during these meetings.  
  
Romano wanted to react then. An excitement that he didn’t understand coursed through him. Spain was here. And this, was finally, another country who cared about him. And as far as Romano knew, Spain was the only country who had ever cared about him, or could care about him. As such, Romano desperately wanted to get up, run to him, throw his arms around him, hug him, tell him how much he’d missed him. He even wanted to scold him, perhaps browbeat him for letting his country be in such disarray for such a long time.  
  
How could you-a-leave me for-a-so long? He wanted to ask. Couldn’t you have-a-fixed your country sooner? Didn’t you-a-miss me at all?  
  
But the words didn’t come. Romano was so overcome by the shock of seeing Spain, and shock had petrified him, that all he could manage was to part his lips in something close to what looked like a gape. And gape in shock was all he could seem to do for several long, awkward seconds.

Spain still had his hand in the air as he waited for Romano’s response, but it didn’t come. When Romano failed to say anything to him Spain opened his eyes which had shut when his smile had come over his face. He saw Romano sitting in his chair with his saucer like eyes. He could tell that Romano was stunned. It seemed that Romano was frozen, and he looked petrified.  
Spain immediately mistook Romano’s shocked expression as a sign of fear. A part of Spain always assumed Romano would hate him for what he’d done in the past. When children were betrayed they had a right to carry on their anger as long as they needed or wanted, and Spain knew he had betrayed the boy in his care even if he hadn’t willingly done it. He had hurt him and if Romano didn’t want to talk to him he knew better than to force it.  
Spain quickly lowered his bandaged hand. He was worried that the simple act may have been taken as a sign of aggression. It was his hands that had hurt Romano all those years ago after all, those negative memories had a way of imbedding themselves into the mind. As such Spain lowered his hand to his side and the smile he had been wearing fell from his face.  
The happy mood seemed to blow away and was replaced with an awkwardness that Spain found unnerving and he was almost relieved when he started to cough and had an excuse to break the awkward eye contact with the younger nation. When his coughing ceased he didn’t raise his eyes to look at Romano again. He simply stared at the name card in front of Romano as he spoke once more,  
“I am glad jou are doing well, Roma. Disculpe. (Excuse me.)”  
Spain excused himself and back tracked the few steps he had taken away from his assigned seat.


	2. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spain attends his first meeting in a long time, and it doesn't go as planned.

 

Romano saw Spain’s expression change, and to his horror, that smile he liked so much slipped off his face and away. As soon as it vanished, that warmth he’d always felt from the other nation vanished along with it. And then, Spain turned away from him, even after wishing him well.

As soon as Spain turned his gaze away, Romano felt his heart pick up pace as the fear returned. Only now…the fear had a much different source. He was no longer afraid of Spain, but now…he was afraid of losing contact with him like he had so many years ago.

Romano knew it was foolish, and he knew the things he was feeling and thinking were unrealistic, but…it felt as if he might never see Spain again if he didn’t speak to him before this meeting was over. If he didn’t go up to him and say something…it…felt as if he might vanish and never come back.

Quite suddenly, Romano stood up and out of his seat. Over his initial shock, his emotions as overwhelming and as powerful as ever, he was barely thinking as he suddenly rushed over to the other country. He hadn’t run, but he had hurried, his footsteps taking him down the few seats to where Spain was still standing.

Romano had no idea what he’d do once he got there. He thought he might yell, or scream, or tell the other nation how he should have governed himself better. Maybe he’d tell him how much he missed him, or demand why he had never written. Romano wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he had to go say something to him.

And so, marching up to Spain, an intense look on his face indeed, Romano lifted a scolding finger, indeed as if he were about to tell the older nation off. But…when he reached him, he once again froze, his voice caught in his throat. For a second, he stood there, trembling with bottled up feelings.

But then…quite suddenly, and almost against his will as if his body had a mind of its own, Romano found himself, throwing himself forward. Reaching his arms out, he wrapped them around the older nation. As he clutched him, he suddenly buried his face into the front of Spain’s suit. Despite having grown up, Romano found that Spain was still quite a bit taller than him.

“You idiota!” He suddenly screamed. “Can’t you-a-manage your-a-country any better than-a-that? You couldn’t-a-get yourself under-a-control for over-a-three hundred years? What about-a-me? Did you-a-forget all about-a-me? You didn’t-a-even write. When I-a-went away, I certainly didn’t-a-think it’d-a-be for-a-three hundred-a-years! Did you-a-do it on purpose? You were-a-sick of me, weren’t-a-you? You got-a-tired of-a-me. That’s-a-why you-a-never recovered. That-a-way, I could-a-never come-a-back! You-a-bastardo! You shouldn’t adopt such-a-difficult-a-child if you don’t-a-mean it!”

And quite suddenly, and very much so against his will, Romano was crying. The tears came so quickly that he didn’t even know they were streaming down his face until he felt the heat of them. After three hundred years…he’d forced himself to stop thinking about Spain. He blocked out all those happy memories and tried to force himself to move on. After all…it’d become clear…that Spain wasn’t going to come back for him.

But…seeing him now, after so much time, Romano couldn’t help the sudden surge of emotions that came flooding back. He remembered the heartache of being taken away from his guardian despite the circumstances at the time. He’d feared Spain, and he’d been hurt by him. Those feelings hadn’t lasted long. He remembered being so afraid for Spain when he finally learned what it was that was taking place in his country. And although he understood why he’d had to go live with Austria and Hungary, he was still a child. And no amount of logic eased the hurt that was caused when a parental figure went away.

It was only natural for a child of that age to assume that he had done something wrong. That perhaps he hadn’t been good enough, or likable enough. And as Romano sat waiting for Spain to eventually recover and come back to get him for years and years, then decades…then finally…centuries…Romano had to conclude that he’d been abandoned.

Already predisposed to low-self esteem, and depression issues, the blow had been hard. And Romano could only assume that he was truly that unlovable. For surely…even if Spain was still having issues…he would write. Or at the very least, return a few of the endless letters Romano used to send to him when he was younger. But after so much time…he’d given up.

With his half of the country so poor, crime riddled, and miserable, Romano’s attitude wasn’t helped by the personal blow. And he could only hope that it wasn’t his personality as a country persona that was keeping his citizens down…but that instead it was his countries bad position that was keeping him down instead.

“You could have-a-at least-a-told me to my-a-face…that you-a-didn’t want me any-a-more…”

Romano squeezed the Spaniard a bit tighter.

 

A few of the nearby countries were staring. It was hard not to. Spain’s presence alone made the situation odd. But then, to see Romano acting out in such an emotional way was extremely odd too. He normally sat all alone, silently, and quiet, never bothering to speak or even look at anyone else in the room. When he did speak or interact it was only to shout vulgarities. He wasn’t likeable, and he wasn’t liked much in return. And so, to see him suddenly so worked up over another country was strange.

“Spain was his guardian for a long time,” One of the personas said.

“And he was uprooted literally overnight. I suppose it’s understandable.”

“Unresolved parental issues?”

“Spain was the only country who could ever stand the little brat.”

“He’s _still_ a brat.”

“All the same, I didn’t realize Romano had the capacity for emotions.”

 

Spain’s green eyes widened when Romano had come to his side. At first it looked like Romano was going to lecture him, and he did. What surprised Spain the most however was the way Romano had simply thrown himself at his chest. Spain had been unprepared when the shorter nation threw his arms around him and started to cry. Spain had almost been knocked over, but he managed to stay on his feet. Spain hadn’t been expecting this reaction in the least. 

Then there were the things he heard coming out of Romano’s mouth. Spain had always assumed Romano would be angry with him. He assumed Romano would blame him for being weak, unorganized, or lazy. Or say that it had been his fault or weakness that had caused his country to literally go hell in a hand basket. All the other nations had no shame in rubbing salt in the once mighty empire’s wounds. Spain had simply known Romano would blame him for their long separation and why they’d been separated, but he had never, in all of his years, dreamed Romano would think of a way to blame himself for their long separation. Spain never dreamed that Romano would find a way to blame himself for something that had been so out of his control.

When Spain heard that his face fell, “No. Yo nunca podría ser harto de ti.” (I could never be sick of you.)

 He slowly reached out wrapping his own arms around his upset charge. “Traté de conseguir mejor. Te lo prometo.” (I tried to get better. I promise.) “Traté de escribirte. Intenté ponerme en contacto contigo. Austria dijo que no.” (I tried to write you. I tried to contact you. Austria said no.) Tenía miedo de mí mismo. Yo no tendría que volver si no era seguro. Yo no quiero que sufras. Lo siento Roma.” (I was afraid of myself. I couldn't have you come back if it wasn't safe. I didn't want you to suffer. I'm sorry Roma.)

He raised one of his hands to Romano’s head and gently patted the brunette locks. He had patted Romano’s head many times like this when Romano had been younger. Spain only hoped it gave the older Italian brother some comfort now.

As he stood holding Romano, Spain’s face twisted into one of remorse. He didn’t understand how Austria could allow Romano to simply think he hadn’t been wanted. Spain had wanted to keep Romano more than anything. He had plenty of arguments with Austria about that subject. Spain had to wonder if Austria had bothered to explain the situation to Romano correctly, but Spain knew Romano could be very difficult. It was quite possible that Austria had explained and Romano had only heard what he’d wanted to hear.

“Siempre te quise, pero mi país sigue en ruinas. No es seguro.” (I always wanted you, but my country is still in shambles. It's not safe there.)

Spain let out a heavy sigh as he held the crying nation close, and that was when he heard the other nations talking behind their backs. His hands immediately pulled Romano in all the closer and safer. He still wanted to protect Romano even now. He looked over his shoulder at the others with an unhappy frown, and the others quickly turned away. However, Spain still yelled at them,

“Él no es un mocoso!” (He is not a brat!) “Y por supuesto que tiene emociones! Pendejos!” (And of course he has emotions! Assholes!)

Even if he was weak he would never brush off such demeaning comments. It was cruel to say such things about anyone, but Spain would be damned if he didn't stick up for Romano now when he had the chance after so many years. The younger nation still meant a great deal to him no matter what they'd been through.

 

Romano couldn’t seem to stop or control himself. He knew of course, that Spain had been trying to get better. No country went through such hell on purpose. But sometimes…Romano just said things. He was never exactly sure why. But a lot of the time, he would exaggerate circumstances, or say things he knew weren’t true.

But Spain…for whatever reason…had become very good at knowing when Romano was bluffing or exaggerating for attention and when he was telling the truth. Even now, hundreds of years later, he seemed able to pick up on the fact that Romano truly had been terrified that it had all somehow been his fault…even if his mind knew better. A mind knowing something…sometimes didn’t always get that message to the heart.

Hearing Spain reassure him now, even though it was hundreds of years late, was incredibly relieving. And hearing him say that he was wanted, that Spain had never been sick of him, was healing. Romano couldn’t remember if anyone, ever, on all the earth had ever wanted him before. As far back as he could recall…he’d always been called a brat or a pain or a problem. He was a screw up and had little to no control over his tongue. Ornery, volatile, and with a generalized bad attitude, no one could stand him.

But Spain…Spain could. Romano had never understood how. Perhaps it was his incredibly positive attitude. Nothing seemed to get the Spaniard down. Nothing Romano said to him insulted him or hurt him. And Spain seemed to realize that Romano didn’t mean nearly ninety percent of the things he said. One way or another, the Spaniard was able to see all of the goodness beneath, and he was able to understand all of the hidden messages Romano had beneath his rocky exterior.

Listening to Spain’s familiar, kind, and warm voice was immediately comforting. And hearing him speak his native tongue was soothing. Romano remembered all of his Spanish lessons, even hundreds of years later. The language, as soon as it was spoken out loud, came rushing back to him. And hearing it in his ear, had a therapeutic effect. He hadn’t realized how desperately he’d missed it. Or…how desperately he’d missed Spain. Seeing him again, hearing his voice, listening to him speak Spanish, and seeing that old smile…made Romano want to cry even harder.

He was just so relieved, and so happy to see that Spain was somewhat ok…even if he did look like hell. And Romano had needed to hear him say that it wasn’t his fault, that he had wanted to come for him, but just couldn’t.

Before Romano could gather himself or respond, the other countries started whispering about him and his breakdown. But before he even had the chance to be embarrassed about his display, or to grow upset about it, Spain addressed them all, a sharp look in his weary eyes.

“Él no es un mocoso!” (He is not a brat!) “Y por supuesto que tiene emociones! Pendejos!” (And of course he has emotions! Assholes!)

Romano’s gold-green eyes widened in shock. No one, ever, for as long as he could remember, had ever stood up for him before. In fact, he was so used to being called such things that he hadn’t really thought much of it until Spain grew angry for him. As far as Romano was concerned…he _was_ a brat. At least…he was used to being described as one. And after such a long time, he’d come to accept it.

_But-a-Spain…doesn’t-a-think I’m-a-brat?_ Romano marveled. His heart, already beating quickly from the surprise, shock and turbulent emotions, suddenly began to pound. And that of course, was when Spain rested his hand on top of his head.

Romano’s chest tightened. And he felt his blood simply shooting through his body in a way that made him feel more alive than he had in centuries. This was someone…who really truly _cared_ about him.

And as Romano stood there, staring up at that harsh expression Spain was giving the others, and as he felt Spain’s arms squeeze tightly around his body protectively, Romano couldn’t help but to think…that he couldn’t ever, _ever_ let Spain go a second time. He knew he’d rather die.

He knew it was crazy. He hadn’t seen Spain in centuries. And now…within five minutes of meeting him again, he felt this unbearable desire to be with him once more. And as his heart pounded away against his ribcage, that feeling only grew and grew.

_I have to-a-help him,_ he suddenly thought. _He’s not-a-violent and-a-unstable anymore. His government has-a-at least settled down enough for-a-that. And if he’s-a-safe to-a-be around then…then I don’t-a-care how dangerous his-a-country is. He looks like he’s-a-starving. I know I’m not-a-powerful country, and I-a-know I can’t do hardly anything-a-right but…I can at least-a-feed him some-a-good food. I don’t have-a-much…but I have enough for-a-one person._

_And he-a-looks sick. I could-a-at least make him some-a-good Italian soup. Maybe…maybe I could-a-help him-a-clean up his-a-house…like when I was-a-young. I’m-a-not completely helpless anymore. I’m an-a-adult now. Maybe I could-a-even lend-a-hand if he got into-a-fight with-a-someone…_

Romano could barely even believe the insane power of the desire he had to help Spain. It seemed irrational, and yet he didn’t care. It wasn’t like he had much to lose. With no friends, no family, and his home country falling apart, there wasn’t much for him to leave behind. The only thing productive he was doing at the moment was farming. And really…he’d done all he could for the season. The rest of it was up to God and whether he saw fit to send South Italy some rain.

Completely ignoring the other countries, something he was quite used to, Romano instead fixated his gaze on Spain’s haggard face. His gold-green eyes filled with an intensity he hadn’t had in centuries, he spoke.

“Southern Italy doesn’t-a-have much to-a-spare but…I could-a-at least give you-a-some of our crops. You look-a-hungry Spain…I can-a-help. I’m an adult now. Southern Italy is-a-all farm land.” And then…something amazing happened that none of the other countries had ever witnessed before: Romano smiled. “We-a-grow lots of-a-tomatoes now!”

 

Spain couldn’t help but to stare at Romano as he spoke. His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red when Romano spoke about him being hungry. He was of course. He only ate when the chance arose, and he hadn’t eaten properly in ages. He didn’t have the money to provide for himself at the moment, and his boss was no help. He would never tell Romano because Romano would yell at him, but he donated most of the food he managed to get. There was an orphanage in the city where he gave most everything he had to the children of his nation. They needed food more than he did. If he starved to death he would come back.

It was simply humiliating to be called out on his starving appearance in front of everyone even if it was true; Spain knew Romano hadn’t meant to cause him embarrassment. In fact, Spain realized that Romano was being very thoughtful of him at the moment. It made Spain’s heart fill with happiness.

No one had cared or been so thoughtful to him in a long time, and he couldn’t keep the rosiness off his face as Romano said such kind things to him. He hadn’t expected Romano to be kind. He’d expected Romano would still be angry with him. However, that wasn’t the case. Romano wasn’t angry. Romano was willing and offering to help him now. It had been so long since their separation, and he was still shocked that Romano could so quickly forgive him for the things he’d done in the past and for being so weak over the past 300 years. Here he was though. Romano was acting like the adult he claimed to be, and Spain was glad that Romano was acting in such a kind, compassionate way. Romano was offering to feed him. He was offering to help, and that was more than anyone else had offered previously. The other nations had mostly written his chaotic existence off.  Spain’s green eyes were unblinking as Romano spoke about sharing crops. That was a big deal for a nation. Crops were special. They were the life of a farming nation, and Romano’s offer to share was so generous. Spain knew he was in no position to turn down help or friendship. Personally, he needed both of those things, now more than ever. The offer was enough to make a smile tug its way back onto Spain’s face. He pulled Romano in all the closer.

“Gracious Romano. I would like that. I bet jour tomatoes are the best ever. Jou learned that from me, si?”

He smiled with pride down at the younger nation. It was a look Romano hadn’t seen from any other nation. Spain was proud of the adult Romano had become.

“Jou grew up into a fine nation. Boss is proud of jou.”

It was a cute little scene, and it was still drawing attention around the room. Spain’s hug ended abruptly however when Spain made a sudden turn and desperately reached out towards the conference table. His hands came down hard on the wooden surface, and he dug his fingers along the solid surface trying to bring some stability back to his swaying world. He’d already been dizzy from his fever when he’d started looking for his seat, and that dizziness had simply escalated from his ever present fever.

Having been sick for so long had stripped away both his resistance and energy. He simply had little to no reserve when his fever rose, but he’d dealt with dizziness before. The smile on his face didn’t fade in the least as he struggled to remain standing.

“Ha. I’m ok.” He tried to reassure his former charge with a smile still on his face. Romano had always been a kind soul. He had never taken it well when Spain had come home injured, sick, or weak, and Spain didn’t want him to worry now.

 

When Spain said he was proud of him, that he was a fine nation, Romano’s heart soared. No one was proud of him. Ever. Hell, he wasn’t even proud of himself. As poor and as crime riddled as his country was, no one ever had anything good to say about him. Not even Feliciano. And he certainly had never been called a fine nation before. And so, to hear that Spain was proud of him meant far more than anyone could understand.

But even as Romano was taking such a huge compliment in, Spain suddenly let go of him. The warmth and the comforting pressure of his arms vanished, and quite suddenly, Spain turned away and put his hands out to steady himself on the table top. Romano’s eyes widening, he watched as his loved one swayed, clearly dizzy from his illness.

But of course…Spain had seen Romano’s worried look. And when he did, he told Romano that he was ok. And to top it all off…he kept that silly grin on his face; the one that he always wore, all the time, no matter the circumstances. And to see Spain wearing it now, and knowing that it was for his benefit, filled Romano with even more unbridled emotion.

For just a second, Romano trembled in place from the sheer power of all the things he was feeling. But of course, he knew he had to act. Spain clearly needed help.

“Idiota!” Romano barked. Then, reaching out, he grabbed onto the older nation’s shoulders. “You should-a-sit down before you-a-fall over and-a-hit your head on something. Don’t you-a-even know how to-a-take care of yourself when you’re-a-sick?”

Then, as always, not knowing how to show his affections, Romano very roughly forced Spain around the table and into his chair, making him sit.

“You should-a-sit down when you’re-a-dizzy, idiota.” Then, nose held in the air, and arms crossed over his chest, Romano promptly and purposefully sat down beside Spain. Then, leaning back in the seat, he crossed his legs in a very matter-of-fact way.

As soon as he did, poor Canada went up behind him. Timidly, he cleared his throat.

“Um…Southern Italy? That’s uh…that’s my seat,” he muttered. Romano glanced over his shoulder at the other country, and when he did, he sent a frightening glare his way.

“Well it-a-isn’t anymore! So piss off!”

Clearly not wanting to get into a fight with the southern Italian twin, Canada took the hint and simply went down a few seats on the table and sat himself down in Romano’s original location.

 

The other nations of the room watched as South Italy shoved the ill Spaniard into his conference chair. Romano hadn’t been gentle about it, and they were now muttering about Romano’s nonexistent bedside manner. It hadn’t seemed like Romano had been acting in a caring manner when he shoved the ill Spaniard into a chair and yelled insults his way. They were wondering if Spain would say something about the harsh way Romano was acting. But Spain wasn’t the least bit deterred by Romano’s harsh words. In fact, Spain seemed to be floating on cloud nine next to Romano.

Spain looked after Canada and gave a friendly wave. He didn’t want to cause trouble with anyone, and he didn’t want Romano to be taken in a negative light. As such he extended a friendly greeting to the other nation,

“Thank you for the sacrifice, amigo.”

Finally sitting in a chair Spain was hopeful that the dizziness would eventually vanish. His cheeks were still bright red as he turned his view from the other nation and back to Romano. He once again looked away from the other nation when he leaned forward crossing his arms on the table and then laid his head on his arms to rest. Head down he stared up at Romano from his makeshift pillow. Even if he looked like death warmed over he continued to smile. Ever since he’d met back up with Romano his smile just didn’t waiver.

Spain remembered that he had once been called the smiling nation and a smiling idiot. The others had accused him of never ceasing to be happy no matter his bleak situation, and he had plenty of bleak situations. Spain’s common response had been to tell them that he was always happy because the sun was always smiling on his land. The sun was still shining on his home. That was true, but he’d been too sick to really see the sun in a long time.

Nowadays he was resting inside, working inside, or sick inside and those things all took place far from the sun’s magical rays. He hadn’t been out to enjoy the sun in what seemed like an eternity. He hadn’t been able to farm in years. His body wouldn’t supply the energy needed to support such a strenuous task. Being stuck inside and alone like a prisoner had accentuated his loneliness, and he had no urge to go outside and meet anyone when he usually felt sick and in constant pain.

Maybe this meeting was a blessing in disguise. He had the opportunity to meet Romano, and simply having someone take an interest in his wellbeing was so uplifting that Spain couldn’t help but to smile. Spain also took pleasure in knowing that Romano didn’t hate him after all these years. Having Romano care about his wellbeing was so uplifting that Spain’s own spirits soared through the clouds. Spain knew Romano was worried about him and tried to ease the younger nation’s nerves once more.

“Jou don’t have to worry Romano. I have been sick for so long now. I can take care of myself when I’m sick, I promise. Hey, Romano, if I close my eyes for a minute will jou wake me up before the meeting starts?”

Spain asked the brunette.

“Promise? I just want a short siesta for a minute…but my boss…”

Spain didn’t even finish his sentence before his eyes drifted closed and he started to fall fast asleep on the table. If Romano dared place his hand on Spain’s forehead he would see how feverish the other nation was. With that type of fever Spain should have been in bed or resting, but he was up and walking around obviously ignoring his illness to the best of his abilities.

When Spain fell into slumber the other nations took notice. Britain, who had always been one to pick fights with the Spaniard, was quick to point out the unprofessional behavior, and France took notice as well. When France saw that Spain was asleep he immediately started to walk towards his old friend. He was worried about Spain’s haggard look.

 

Romano noticed how quickly Spain had fallen asleep. Already knowing he was sick, he wasn’t too surprised. Spain appeared simply exhausted. If he was tired and ill, then he needed his rest. And besides all of that…Spain did such things when he was healthy as it was. Even as a child living in Spain’s house Romano used to chastise him for being so lazy and easy going. Spain had always taken naps in the middle of the day and loved his siestas. And although Romano had been too young to attend meetings with him as a boy, he imagined that him falling asleep at the table might not have been uncommon.

As soon as Britain let out a scoff, Romano’s head whipped in his direction.

“You shut the-a-hell up! Can’t you-a-see how exhausted he-a-is? He’s-a-sick!” But that was when France started to walk over. As soon as Romano saw the other country, he stiffened in his seat. Romano had always hated France since the day he came into existence. And really, he had good reason. The older country had been after him, and had tried to take over his land multiple times.

He said awful, terrifying, perverted things about how he was going to “Make Romano his land” or how he might “Inject South Italy with French culture” or “Plant his flag” in him. Romano would never forget being a child and seeing that sick, lustful look on the French personas face. Spain had ended up fighting the perverted nation over five times just to keep him safe. And Romano remembered how Antonio had come back from those battles, bruised and scarred, but also victorious from his desperate attempts of protecting Romano.

Romano remembered bandaging him up…tears streaming down his face at the guilt he felt. No one had ever cared to protect him like that before. And Spain had sacrificed so much to keep him as a colony…even though all the other countries said Romano was worthless as a territory. As far as Romano knew…he had been worthless. And Spain fought so hard to protect him anyway.

Concerning current events, Romano was well informed of most of the other countries relations post WWII. And because he always kept up with the news, he was aware of some of the things that were happening in Spain even though he hadn’t seen Antonio in so very long.

One such thing was Spain’s current relations with France. Just after the war, France accused Spain of all sorts of heinous things that were simply untrue: such as Spain harboring remaining Nazi’s left over from Germany, or that his government was building nuclear weapons in an elaborate plan to attack France once they were done. And, France, seeing that he could play some good political cards off of his son: America’s fear of communism, also accused Spain of having communist connections and ties. In a final move, France had forcefully shut down Spain’s boarder.

None of those accusations were true. A little later on, France somewhat _discreetly_ apologized to his old friend in 1948 by reopening the French-Spanish boarder once more. But relations between him and Spain were still rocky at best, even though they were improving. All the same, Romano was in no mood to deal with a country he personally hated, and a country he knew wasn’t on the best terms with Spain currently.

Not willing to let France near, Romano suddenly stood up from his seat. Stepping out, he rolled his shoulders back, stood up as tall as he could, and faced the Frenchman head on.

“Not a step-a-closer! I know you and-a-Spain aren’t-a-friends currently, and he’s-a-not feeling-a-well. So step off of-a-it, Frenchy!”

 

France did stop in his approach. He hesitated for a moment and then pressed onward. When he reached the pair he reached down and went to place his hand on his old friend's forehead to gauge the level of his fever.

 

Romano was incredibly insulted that France had just decided to step around him and ignore him. Romano, often treated like he was less important than the other countries, and often disregarded all together, found France’s actions infuriating. But on top of that, seeing his hand reach out and toward Spain filled him with even more rage.

“È stronzo!” (You asshole!) And with little to no warning, Romano ran and jumped onto the Frenchman’s back. And really, his anger overtaking him much more frequently than he would have liked, even Romano didn’t always have full control of it or himself. His country was controlled primarily by the Italian mafia, and as such, keeping his temper and violence in check proved to be _very_ difficult when he felt like something that was _his_ was threatened. Romano had very strong ties to territory. And Spain…was the only person who he’d ever consider family. As such, he suddenly felt like he needed to defend him with his life.

And so, after he suddenly jumped onto France’s back, he quite unexpectedly and quite viciously _bit_ into the Frenchman’s shoulder, sinking his teeth in deep, and like a snapping turtle, he didn’t let go.

 

At first France hadn’t been so concerned by Romano's outburst. It was well known that Romano could be annoying, and a handful. Usually Romano's bark was far worse than his bite... However, he never expected Romano to sink his teeth into him, literally. When Romano’s teeth sank into his flesh he let out a desperate cry of pain.

“Aaaa!”

France screamed in a rather pitiful fashion and started to dance around frantically trying to buck the crazed Italian off his back. He forgot about Spain and began to slap at Romano’s head haphazardly trying to knock him off.

“Mon Dieu! Descendre de lui!” (My God! Get him off!)

France cried out for assistance. Of course with such violence breaking out the others had to come running. No one wanted to put up with anything from Romano of all nations, and no one had a fear of him. The nations who were close to France came running to his aide.

“Get off of him!” Britain was one of the first to yell out. He went to grab at the crazed Italian and pull him off. Britain had become a bit protective of France ever since WW2 when he'd lost France to Germany for a time.

 

And of course, as soon as Romano completely flipped out, Feliciano was on his feet, getting up to run to his brother. Poor Ludwig instinctively went to follow, but as soon as he stood up so quickly, he let out a sharp cry of pain. Germany, was still in rough shape from the aftermath of WWII. Horrifically injured years later, although he was healing, albeit slowly, he ended up falling back down into his seat, unable to join in the sudden rush of countries to the disaster. After all…he’d needed Italy’s help just to limp himself into the meeting room.

And so, Feliciano was left to deal with his brother without his partner. But Germany was sure he’d be fine…it looked like the other countries had gone over to help too.

“Fratello!” (Brother!) Feliciano cried. Reaching the pair, Italy ran over to France and Romano. Alongside Britain, Italy helped pull Romano off France.

Romano, not being a very strong country, fell quickly, but not without first sinking his nails into the Frenchman’s back and ripping at his skin as he was pried off. Poor France let out another cry. But as soon as Romano was off, Britain let go of him and was running to France’s side, leaving Italy with his enraged brother. Italy in an attempt to calm him down, wrapped his arms around him from behind.

“Romano! Calmati!” (Calm down!) “No one’s-a-going to-a-hurt Spain! I think France was-a-just going to-a-check on him!”

“No!” Romano screamed. “France doesn’t just-a-check on-a-anyone! He’s-a-liar and-a-cheat and-a-douche bag! He’s said-a-horrible things about-a-Spain! He-a-tried to-a-turn America against him by saying all of that-a-stuff about Spain having communists and-a-nuclear weapons! I-a-won’t let someone-a-like that near-a-Spain when he’s-a-sick and-a-weak!”

And with that, Romano viciously let out a ‘phatoo’ and spit at France’s feet. 

 

It was amazing that throughout this entire time Spain hadn’t even flinched once. The brunette nation lay like the dead on the table. He was unmoving, unflinching, and undisturbed by the turmoil going on around him.

Everyone took notice of this, and Britain had to point at the slumbering nation,

“Calm your temper, Romano! Spain is fast asleep. He is not bothered by France. You do not need to act like a lunatic just because someone wants to bother with the sleeping moron.” Britain motioned toward the unconscious nation with a frown, “I have a great idea. Why don’t we start the meeting? France, leave Spain alone! Bloody arse!”

France grumbled unhappily in his spot, but he nodded in agreement.

 

“Si! Let’s-a-start the-a-meeting!” Feliciano cried desperately, hoping to turn the attention away from his strange and violent brother. Feliciano cared for his brother…but had always had trouble understanding him and relating to him. Never knowing how to really get to know him since he was so hostile, the more friendly of the Italian twins found himself spending a lot of time just…diverting attention away from Romano.

The other nations turned to their seats, grumbling and mumbling to themselves about the fiasco. Romano heard a few of their murmurs here and there, mainly about how he was ‘crazy’ or ‘disturbed’ or about how he ‘had always been a strange one.’

_I don’t-a-care!_ Romano told himself, even though he knew he did. _They just-a-don’t understand anything!_ For the most part, country personas weren’t at fault for their personalities. They were shaped by their citizens and government. And Romano…was heavily controlled by his mafia. It put an anger in him that he had trouble fighting, and he was prone to these types of fits of violence. But really…it was at odds with the rest of him. For the rest of Southern Italy was comprised of farmers. Good, honest, hard working people. And as such…it was this part of his citizens that made Romano so sensitive, emotional, and sometimes downright timid. His vastly different personalities often conflicted, and no one bothered to understand it…except of course…for Spain.

“Good! Everyone just-a-go away!” Romano cried. And quickly and suddenly, he shrugged out of Feliciano’s grasp. “Let-a-go of me you-a-goody two-shoes. I don’t-a-want to-a-see your-a-stupid face!”

And really…his comments hurt Romano almost as much as they hurt Italy. Romano recognized that Italy was trying to help him and that really…his brother was on his side. But…when Romano was so worked up like this it was difficult to settle him back down. And because of his hundreds of years of rivalry with his brother, who he always felt was better than him at everything…the jealously made it hard to say something nice in this moment.

Feliciano, his expression hurt, still stood by his brother, although he did let him go as requested. For a moment, Italy hesitated, but then spoke out,

“Romano…I know you’re-a-upset. Is…is there-a-anything I can-a-do for you before the-a-meeting starts?”

But as soon as Italy offered such kindness, it was America who let off a scoff.

“You’re wasting your time Italy. That one’s a loose cannon.”

And that comment, coming from _America_ was something. Romano, seeing Spain wasn’t being threatened any more, and hearing Italy’s kind offer, finally started to settle back down. And instead of lashing out again, he nodded quickly.

“Si…I-a-think we should-a-get Spain some-a-water for when he-a-wakes up. He-a-looks feverish…”

And at that, a smile quickly returned to Italy’s face. Being given something to do, being offered a way to help his distraught twin, made the Italian feel better about the situation and himself. Feliciano, as always, wanted to be helpful.

“Si! I’ll-a-get you some-a-water Romano. Then we’ll-a-start the-a-meeting.” And so, Italy turned on his heel and excitingly started to skip out of the room and toward the nearest water cooler.

Romano let out a heavy sigh. His brother, as always…was happy, smiling, kind, and adorable.

_I’m-a-none of those-a-things,_ Romano thought miserably. And in fact, tasting blood between his teeth, he was only reminded of what it was he was truly like in comparison to his brother. _He’s perfect…and I’m the-a-exact opposite of him. Doesn’t that-a-make me…the-a-worst persona ever?_

Already regretful for his violent outburst, and sad and depressed that he had yelled at Feliciano, Romano turned his eyes to the sleeping Spaniard.

_For some-a-reason…Spain-a-doesn’t think I’m so-a-terrible,_ he thought hopefully. _He actually…believes in-a-me. How I don’t-a-know…but I-a-know he does…_

Sitting back down in his seat, Romano kept his depressed gaze onto the sick nation. He honestly had no idea how Spain could stand him, never-the-less like him. At times like this…Romano didn’t even like himself.

 

Eventually Italy returned to the room with a glass of water and by then Romano had retaken his seat next to Spain. Romano had let the nation sleep, and Spain stayed dead to the world. As Romano studied the other nation so closely all the faults in his appearance were visible. Spain was sweating profusely into his shirt. Spain’s own body heat was festering and rising as he lay curled in on himself. His face was bundled up against his crossed arms. His breathing was labored. His eyes were crinkled up even in his sleep in a sign of discomfort. There was nothing to be done though. He looked as peaceful as any suffering nation could. He was at least sleeping soundly.

When the meeting started Romano was left to rouse Spain like the Spaniard had asked him to. Romano’s attempt to rouse Spain was unsuccessful at first. However, with Romano’s repeated attempts and his ever increasingly violent techniques Spain eventually woke up.

The brunette was in a daze as he pushed himself up off the table. He stayed awake for all of a few minutes. He never seemed to fully return to the land of the living. His green eyes were glazed over as he stared out at the meeting room. Romano could see that Spain seemed dazed.

It wasn’t a normal stupor either. Spain didn’t seem lucid, and eventually he slumped foreword onto the table again and slept through the rest of the meeting. Romano’s efforts simply couldn’t rouse him again. His fever had spiked to a higher degree, and he was unconscious for the hours that followed. He slept through the speeches and the talks. He slept through all the fighting without as much as a flinch. The UN meeting continued without him.

If the others knew what the Spaniard had gone through to get to this meeting they would have understood his exhaustion. It wasn’t simply the fever or illness that had exhausted Spain. He was dirt poor. He’d walked from his home to the airport, but he walked from his home to Madrid multiple times during the week. He couldn’t afford a car or gas. That walk wasn’t such an unusual trip, but his journey hadn’t ended there.

He’d had to take a plane, and the travel through the airport had been exhausting in itself. Then once in the plane for the first time, he’d been a nervous wreck. He’d been unable to rest on the plane and had been a jittery mess. The experience had once again been exhausting, and then he’d had to traverse through Italy on foot because he had no spare money for a taxi. The endless traveling and walks had been nightmarish. The entire journey was taxing on the ill Spaniard.

He was finally recuperating through intense sleep, but he slept through the entirety of the UN meeting. The other nations bickered around him. They carried on with their own troubles, and they yelled and fussed. Things were brought to the floor of the meeting room, but they never seemed to resolve their issues. The meeting was eventually called to an end. It wasn’t really an end however. Some of the more important issues that had needed to be resolved had not been discussed.

It was the late evening and time had simply run out, but things like that happened at these meetings. It was not uncommon for these meetings to span over into a second meeting day. Everyone had made arrangements to stay the night. They had booked rooms. Some were resigned to stay with Italy. Some were going to party all night in groups, but they were all filing out of the room.

As nations filed out of the meeting hall Romano was left to try and rouse Spain from his slumber again, and this time the zombie nation rose from the dead. Once more he awoke in a slight daze. When he realized Romano was waking him he blinked in confusion and slowly his green eyes started to clear. He looked around the room trying to take in the situation. He had not expected to find the meeting hall empty. He saw the last couple of nations leaving. It took a moment for him to get his thoughts together. Than as realization started to hit him his green eyes widened and he turned to Romano in shock,

¿Qué hora es? (What time is it?)

Knowing that the meeting was over he simply wanted some proof. He looked around the room and let out a gasp as he saw a clock on the wall.

“Oh, Dios mío!” (Oh my God!) I-I slept through the whole meeting?”

He asked in shock. When Romano said yes and that the meeting would be continued tomorrow the younger nation could immediately see the chill that ran up Spain’s spine.

Romano may have usually given him a smirk or a wise crack. The others gave him enough of those over his siesta habits, but as Romano looked to the older nation he saw the worried look in Spain’s eyes. It was enough to give Romano a knot in the pit of his stomach. Spain was obviously very worried about having missed this meeting, and everyone knew Spain’s boss wasn’t the best of bosses.

Spain sat in his chair as he accessed his situation. His face scrunched up with concern as he stayed worried about the things to come for a few seconds. It seemed like the minutes ticked by in awkward silence, but eventually Spain let out a heavy sigh. He reached up wiping the sweat off his brow once again,

“Bueno, eso es todo.” (Well that's that.)

Spain knew there was nothing to be done about having fallen asleep. He couldn’t go back in time. He knew when he met with his boss there would be hell to pay, but he couldn’t do anything about it now. It was done, and he didn’t want to think about it. He also didn’t want to be upset. Romano was here for the first time in 300 years, and he didn’t know how long Romano would be able to be at his side. It was best to bask in the happiness of friendship than the fear of tomorrow.

So, with one deep breath and a heavy sigh he pushed aside the thoughts of his boss and the fear that going home brought. Instead he looked up at Romano and pulled the goofy smile back onto his face. He was trying to think of anything he could do with the Italian without imposing on him or pushing him. Romano usually pulled away when he was pushed, and Spain simply wanted to spend some time with him.

He tried to think of things they could do in the immediate area that wouldn’t take any money. They could go sightseeing in the immediate area. If they went to a park Spain was sure he could find a nice place to sleep for the night. It wasn’t like he had a place to stay for the night. Spain opened his green eyes and stared into Romano’s eyes. The happiness at being with his former charge was immense, and Romano could see how happy Spain was to be in his company,

“Romano this is great. Since I must stay for an extra day we should do something. Jou and me, would jou like to go for a walk with me? I know jou probably will be going to Italy’s house for the night or back to jour house until tomorrow’s meeting, but would jou like to come with me for a little while? I would like to talk to jou more. I want to hear everything I missed out on. Jou should tell me how jour doing lately. Jou became a really good farmer, si? Tell boss all about it because I missed jou, Romano.”

With his last line Spain’s lips pulled upward all the more. It was Spain’s goofy grin that let Romano know the other nation was sincere and wanted to spend time with him. Of course Romano would have to think that a walk was the worst and best idea ever. On one hand he could have time and companionship with Spain, but on the other hand Spain was ill. He was in no shape to go for a walk. His brow was still sweat drenched. His clothes were clinging to his skin. He looked like a train wreck. He obviously needed to be in bed resting, but he didn’t seem to be thinking about that or he was purposefully avoiding it.

Spain went to stand up again. He put his hands flat on the table and pushed himself to his feet, and he swayed a bit but he didn't let it bother him. His spirits were up, and he smiled down at his former charge,

"Where do jou want to go Romano? Just tell boss."

 

Romano stared at Spain. Just like before at the beginning of the meeting, he had a hard time understanding it, but could see just how much Spain liked him.

_How? How can he-a-like me?_ But it was clear by his words that he did. Romano felt a surge of emotion coarse through him as Spain said such nice things to him, and offered to do things like spend time with him, or go on a walk with him. No one wanted to spend time with Romano personally. No one wanted to get to know him.

So why did Spain?

_He-a-wants to know how I’m-a-doing? He-a-missed me?_ Romano could barely understand it, but…it made him feel really good. And Romano simply couldn’t remember being happier. And hearing Spain say that he missed him…made Romano’s heart beat just a little bit faster.

He wanted to jump out of his chair and shout ‘si,’ because the idea of being alone with Spain, of spending quality time with him and talking to him and telling him all about himself sounded like it was too good to be true. But…of course there was a dilemma in that.

_Spain’s-a-so sick…he needs to-a-rest in bed…_

And Romano, more than anything, wanted to help Spain. But that would prove to be difficult. It had taken Romano an hour to drive up to Rome from his house. Going back home didn’t seem economical. He’d originally been planning at staying at Feliciano’s house but…Romano really had no desire to do that after learning that several other countries would be staying there. And of course, that included Germany.

Romano felt almost sick just thinking about the evening that he would have if he went to his brother’s house. All the more powerful nations would be patting themselves on the back, drinking and laughing and partying. And Feliciano and Ludwig would be fawning over one another, Feli of course cooing over Germany’s wounds.

Romano wanted to gag just thinking of it. If he went to such a thing…he’d be ignored or ostracized. And besides all of that…he was fairly certain France would be there. And even after all these years, Romano still feared France almost as much as he detested him. And so…he wasn’t sure what he could do for the evening. He, like Spain, had no money. He couldn’t afford a hotel room either.

_Maybe I should just-a-go home…even if the-a-drive is long and it would-a-waste a lot of-a-gas…_

Romano glanced to Spain then, a worried expression coming over him.

_But what about-a-Spain then?_ Romano didn’t know where Spain was spending the evening. Maybe his boss had given him some money for a hotel? Romano knew that was how it worked for a lot of countries, even poor ones. Romano’s boss, as horrible as he was, would have given him money too, only he didn’t need it since he’d driven. And in thinking of that, that was when Romano’s pea-green eyes suddenly lit up with excitement as an idea hit him.

“Antonio?” He said, not entirely certain to as why he suddenly felt the need to use Spain’s human name instead of his persona one. “I don’t-a-really have-a-convenient place to-a-stay for the-a-evening. Could…could I…maybe…uh…stay with-a-you? In your-a-hotel room?”

And it was a funny thing, because Romano hadn’t thought anything of it until the request left his mouth. But suddenly as he heard himself and his stutter, he wondered if he hadn’t just asked something inappropriate. At first, when the idea had hit him, he’d been very excited because the idea of sharing a room with someone he _liked_ for once was extremely rare. And the idea of course supplied them with the very thing they’d just been discussing: quality time together to catch up on things. And of course, Spain would have a bed to rest in.

But as soon as Romano made his request, he felt a surge of sudden heat rise to his face. He and Spain hadn’t seen each other in over three hundred years. A lot had changed in that time, and Romano realized that he probably knew very little about Spain in his current days, just how in the same way, Spain probably didn’t know anything about him either. They were practically strangers, right?

_It doesn’t-a-feel like we’re-a-strangers…_ he thought. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Romano felt like he’d known Spain for all his life, even though in reality, he only had known him during his childhood.

_I shouldn’t have-a-asked such a thing,_ he thought in dismay. _I’m not-a-child anymore and-a-Spain’s not my-a-guardian. Sharing-a-hotel room might-a-be wildly inappropriate…_  

 

Spain was happy that Romano reciprocated the want to spend quality time together, but he nervously scratched at his head when Romano suggested spending the night with him. He wasn't nervous for the same reasons as Romano though. He would have loved to have had a place to invite him to, but he didn't.

"Sorry amigo,” he said quite quickly in response to Romano's question. "That won’t work. I would love to invite jou over, but I am probably going to siesta in the park."

He tried to laugh through his awkward moment of revealing his homelessness, but he didn't miss a beat. He simply let out a laugh again.

"My boss says I can sleep anywhere, so I just have to find a comfortable place to lay down. It is a nice day though." His laughter died off as he opened his green eyes and thought hard for a moment. “I hope it doesn't rain. Hey Romano, could jou wake me up in the morning, maybe?" Spain asked hopefully. "Jou could come to the park with me for a little while."

 

And of course at that, Romano’s eyebrows shot up and into his hair line. At first, he was incredibly surprised that Spain had nowhere to go. As he’d thought earlier, even poor countries were usually given enough money for trips to important meetings. The only reason a country wouldn’t be given any traveling expenses…was if that countries boss was a total dick. The only purpose would be to punish a persona.

Of course, with Romano’s personality, he immediately grew angry at such news. His face contorting, he grit his teeth at his old guardian.

“I’ve-a-heard-a-few things about your-a-douche bag of-a-boss, but even-a-douchey bosses usually give-a-country some-a-traveling money for the-a-meetings! Didn’t he even-a-want you to get here to-a-make your-a-case for-a-Spain?”

But even as Spain opened his mouth to answer, that silly grin of his still present on his lips, Romano didn’t give him a chance to get a word in edgewise.

“I’m-a-so sick and-a-tired of shitty bosses! It seems like they’re-a-everywhere! Well I’m-a-not going to-a-let you do something as-a-stupido as-a-sleep outside in the-a-park! You’re-a-fucking-a-sick for-a-God’s sake! You have-a-damned fever! You need-a-bed and-a-rest and-a-good food and-a-water!”

Huffing and puffing in his seat, it was clear Romano was too antsy and upset to remain sitting down. Pushing his chair back he got up and started to pace up and down the table as he thought.

“I need to-a-get you to-a-proper bed!” But even as he said it, Romano knew he couldn’t possibly ask Feliciano for help. He was too proud. And besides…he didn’t want Spain anywhere near France.

Making a quick and sudden decision, Romano turned and looked to Spain.

“Would you be-a-well enough to-a-sit in-a-car for-a-few hours? My-a-house isn’t too-a-far away. I know it’s-a-long drive but…it’d still-a-be better than you-a-sleeping on a park bench all-a-night long! I won’t-a-have it!”

 

“I have had much worse bosses. I can stand this one. Jou do not have to get so worked up Romano. I can sleep anywhere, so it’s not so bad. I would stand up for my nation no matter what. Tomorrow I will make my case to the UN in a grandiose way!”

Next Spain addressed the offer of going to Romano’s home. It was a very generous offer. Romano didn’t have to offer him a place to stay, and he had nothing to offer Romano in exchange for it. It was the moments like this when he had absolutely nothing to give that he found out who his true friends were. Spain carefully went to stand up from his chair. It took a great amount of effort, but he was managing,

“Gracious Romano. Si, I can sit in a car. I walked to this meeting after all! I walked from my house to the airport and from the airport to here so sitting in a car would be excellent! I would be happy to go with jou if jou do not mind having me. I would love to go to jour home. I bet it is wonderful. My house was ransacked when I came home after the civil war. It was fought in and around. My things were stolen, and I have not been able to replace them. It looks a lot different now, amigo. My house is rather empty. I bet jours is great.”

He let out another brief laugh as he tried to walk towards Romano, but he was unstable from his fever. He wobbled his way towards Romano though without hesitation.

 

There was something about seeing Spain weak and debilitated that made Romano so sad it almost hurt. After all…he remembered the days when he’d been strong. Strong enough to defend Romano from all kinds of dangers and other countries, and strong enough…to lift him high up into the air in play. And so, when Spain stood up and displayed the fact that he couldn’t even gather enough strength to walk, Romano had to turn his gaze away.

“Idiota…” he whispered, his voice tight. “As if-a-having worse bosses in the-a-past excuses the-a-current one…”

Romano had to keep his gaze away for a few seconds lest he grow too emotional, but while his head was turned, he heard the ‘thud thud’ of suddenly stumbling feet. Alarmed, he lifted his gaze to see Spain wobbling.

“Attento!” (Careful!) Rushing forward, he reached his hands out, placing one on the Spaniards shoulder and the other on his chest to steady him. And of course, once he did, Spain, as always, smiled.

“Gracias, Roma,” he said in that happy-go-lucky voice of his, as if his hardship was nothing at all. Romano scoffed.

“You can’t-a-smile your-a-way through everything! You should-a-be concerned every now and-a-then!”  

 

“But Roma, I have not smiled in so long, and I am sure when I go home I will have more things to be worried about. When I’m with jou I think I should be happy, si? I have not had a friend in a very long time.”

It was true. The last nation Spain had a lot of contact with on a friendly level had been Prussia. Prussia had visited a few times many years ago, but those times were long gone now.

 

Romano felt another wave of heat rise to his face as Spain said such a thing to him. And already flustered from everything that had taken place this day, the only thing he could manage to do was shake his head in disbelief.

“Idiota…”


End file.
